


Distractions

by Rowan-Buzzard-Whitethorn (loopymoony)



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Lorcan is horny and rowan has unhealthy coping mechanisms, M/M, Rowcan, Set during the time that they both faithfully served maeve, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-12-03 16:26:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11536011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loopymoony/pseuds/Rowan-Buzzard-Whitethorn
Summary: Turn-about is fair play...





	1. Unleashed

Lorcan Salvaterre was willing to admit he had been distracted for the past several days.

Serving his queen was always an honor, and he took great pleasure in being able to dole out the proper ‘incentive’ for the surrounding kingdoms to provide favorable trade to Doranelle. He had been all too happy to use his god granted power to make sure that Maeve’s kingdom continued to prosper. Sometimes his missions led him to small villages, sometimes small kingdoms. Either way, once the blood letting was done, he made sure to enjoy his time away by indulging in the following days long celebrations in the ruins.

For the last several decades, when his queen had decided to send two of her finest soldiers to  _negotiate_ , he would find himself accompanied by the ever sulking Rowan Whitethorn. Lorcan had been eager for the prince to swear the blood oath all those years ago- he had skills Lorcan was thrilled to put to use. However, then over a century had passed and Rowan had been content to spend his time sulking and reveling in his mourning. And he was fairly certain the male couldn’t stand him.

And yet, over the last couple decades Lorcan had seen a change in the male. He remained disciplined as ever, but something had loosened in him. Or perhaps had been unleashed. Rather than retreating after battles to his chambers to brood, he began joining in the revelries that the citizens would hold in the days after. Not only that, but he began bedding females again. Usually whores or whatever swaying set of hips crossed his way. But this past week had been different. It was this last mission that had left a searing memory burned in Lorcan’s head.

Once they had washed the remaining gore off, and emptied the former regent’s stores of wine, both Lorcan and Rowan had caught the eye of a rather bold female, intent on sharing both of them in her bed that night. When they followed her to an empty bedchamber, Lorcan found himself continuously glancing over to Whitethorn, surprised that he hadn’t balked at the idea of them bedding a woman together. Lorcan couldn’t even remember the girl’s name, but what he could remember was a particular moment at the climax of their evening.

Lorcan was resting on his knees, between the girl’s legs while she lay spread out on the large bed. He was enjoying the view of her tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. But what really completed the scene was the prince himself. Standing on the side of the bed, knees bent, thrusting into the girl’s mouth while her head hung off the edge of the bed.

Lorcan found his eyes routinely straying to Rowan’s shaft, disappearing past the girl’s lips, and the ragged breathing that accompanied each moment that Rowan allowed his hips to still, to let his cock remain lodged deeply in the girl’s throat while she moaned and gagged.

After one of these instances, she finally pulled her head up to relinquish the head of Rowan’s cock with a pop so she could use her hand instead, resting her jaw. She began pumping Rowan in long strokes.

Then Lorcan heard her murmur, “I want to watch both of you” and Rowan’s head had snapped up in slight surprise, but Lorcan did not hesitate.

He lunged for the male, grabbing the back of his head and dragging him towards his lips. Rowan tensed for the briefest moment before responding, his full lips pressing against Lorcan’s own. When Lorcan dared to bite down on those lips, they had parted slightly to release a ragged groan. He seized the opportunity to slide his tongue into the prince’s mouth, savoring the smooth glide and their lips moving together.

Rowan groaned, breaking the kiss, and with a jolt, Lorcan felt warmth splatter across his skin. He looked down in time to see the woman coaxing the last of Rowan’s climax from him, cum spreading from the woman’s breasts all the way to Lorcan’s torso in thin ropes. The sight alone was enough for him to pull out from between the blonde’s legs and give himself a few quick tugs to find his own release.

Even though that had been almost a week ago now, Lorcan couldn’t forget the ragged breaths, the way that the girl’s body had looked painted with their mingled streaks of white.

During their journey back, Rowan had gone back to his normal, cold self, but Lorcan was still reeling at this new side the prince had revealed, and he found himself wondering in the days since if Whitethorn had ever been with a male. Lorcan had realized fairly early in his long life that fucking males was just as enjoyable as females. And made sure to enjoy both as often as he could. And while his moans during their kiss had made Lorcan believe he wouldn’t turn down such an opportunity, he knew Rowan had been fairly young when he was mated. So what experience did he have? If any?

All of these thoughts continued bouncing around in his head- during his trainings, a couple times while he had laid awake at night, seeking sleep. Even now, after the long run he just took. He was still slick with sweat, his blood pounding in his ears as he made his way down a large spiral stairwell. Carved into the stone beneath his Queen’s palace lay the vast and lavish baths, with saunas and swimming pools of various temperatures. Lorcan was looking forward to soaking his frame in the furnace heated waters of one of the chambers his queen had allotted for her blood-sworn's personal use. After arriving and disrobing at the first set of entry doors, he padded his way past the colorful mosaics and arched pathways to the last of the smaller heated pools. When he turned the corner, he was only mildly surprised to find that he was not alone.

Of course he was here.  _Of fucking course he was_. As if his own distracting thoughts had summoned him, Lorcan stood stock still for several seconds as he took in the lounging frame of Rowan Whitethorn in the recessed tub. He was seated on the submerged step, with his elbows braced against the stone ledge. His head tilted back, eyes closed. Lorcan let his eyes drift lower and found that Rowan’s muscled chest and arms were gleaming in the calming lantern light of the caverned room. A bottle of massage oil sat behind him, and the room had the sharp scent of eucalyptus. Whitethorn's shoulder must giving him trouble.

Lorcan made his way further into the chamber, as Rowan opened one lazy eye to peer at him. Lorcan didn’t miss the slight tension that increased in the male's frame at the sight of him. Still, he spoke with an air of utter relaxation.

“In case you haven’t noticed, this room is taken”. The bite to his words was utterly lost when Lorcan noticed the slightest dip of the prince’s eyes below his pelvis before strictly closing them again, resuming his relaxed pose. An idea began to form in the back of Lorcan’s mind.

He merely smirked. “Luckily for you, you now have me for company ”

Rowan didn’t respond as he stepped down into the heated waters, and positioned himself on the bench seat opposite him. After a few seconds Whitethorn sat up, bringing his arms down into the water and looking Lorcan in the eyes. Lorcan broke the silence first.

“How’s that shoulder? You should be using the peppermint oil”

“It’s fine. And I just prefer the scent.” A pause. “How was your report to the queen?”

Lorcan resisted tensing. His Queen had summoned him to her _bedchamber_ to give all the details of their latest mission, and he hadn’t understood why. But she had barely looked at him during the report and when he was done, she placed her hand on his cheek, leaning in with a slight smile.  _Very well. Now be a good boy and send in Fenrys._

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Rowan’s green eyes remained trained on him. “Will you ever learn to train your expressions? If I can see all your thoughts then Maeve certainly can. It doesn’t serve you.”

“This coming from a male with his emotions literally written on his face?”

Rowan let out a low snarl and Lorcan dropped it. Besides, that idea of his was beginning to take shape and he couldn’t piss off the prince too quickly. He let their silence linger for a long moment

“We may need to head East again once the power shift is complete.” Rowan nodded. “And I’m sure we could find some way to entertain ourselves again while we’re there.” He smirked. “Since I know now how much you enjoy being  _entertained_.”

Rowan gave him a warning look but Lorcan stood up and walked through the waist high water over to the other male. He bent slightly into Rowan’s personal space to pick up the bottle of oil, tipping it to allow several drops to fall into his palm. After setting it back down, he began spreading the smooth oil into his chest, pressing into the sore areas at the top of his pectorals. From this close a distance, Lorcan couldn't miss the way Rowan’s eyes tracked his hands’ progress over his skin. He stifled a laugh. The prince made it almost too easy.

Holding his gaze, he said “Then again, unlike you, I don’t need a barrel of wine to allow myself the benefit of giving in to a good distraction. I allow my body to take what it wants, when it wants.”

Rowan looked up at him, unamused. “I’m aware. It shows in your technique. Undisciplined. Too _loose_.”

Lorcan saw his opportunity and seized it. He bent, leaning over to place both hands on either side of the prince, enjoying the way his jaw tightened with the sudden lack of air between them. Lorcan made sure to keep his voice even and low. “Just as _your_ technique shows your own weakness of being  _too_  disciplined. Like a bowstring wound  _too tight_. Don’t you wonder what might happen if you just  _let go_? ”

Rowan stood up, forcing Lorcan to remove one braced hand as the prince made a fluid movement out of the water, sloshing a small wave over the edge with him. Lorcan had expected this kind of reaction, and used his remaining braced palm to vault himself out of the pool. He caught Whitethorn in two long strides and grabbed him by the elbow.

“Easy there,  _prince,"_  he said in a low voice. “You wouldn’t want people thinking you kept that silver spoon up your ass”

Rowan spun them and pushed Lorcan against the wall. “Have you even considered the possibility that  _you_  are not the type of distraction I’m looking for?”

Lorcan let out a rough laugh. “I’m not so sure. Are you certain you would have come so fast from that girl’s hand on your cock if it weren’t for my tongue in your mouth?”

Something flared in Rowan’s eyes and Lorcan pressed his advantage. He used Rowan’s moment of hesitation to flip their positions, his hands braced on the male’s shoulders. Leaning in close enough to share breath. “Let’s see if I can remind you.”

Their lips crashed together, their teeth bumping hard in a bruising kiss. To Lorcan’s great satisfaction, Rowan responded immediately and just as forcefully, pressing his tongue against his own, against the roof of his mouth. Lorcan felt his every instinct come alive when he heard that same sound come out of Rowan’s throat. That sound that he’d made a week ago, somewhere between a moan and a growl. Lorcan’s hands moved down to Rowan’s sides, pressing in closer. One of Whitethorn’s hands slid up and around Lorcan’s head, tangling in his hair, while the other pulled at his lower back, colliding their damp bodies together.

Lorcan felt Rowan’s cock, half hard, pressing against his belly. He knew that any moment, the prince’s better judgement might have him pulling away, retreating. So he swiftly lowered his hand across the bunched muscles of Rowan’s lower belly, and roughly cupped Rowan’s manhood, giving him a slight squeeze. He released a quick burst of air, his grip tightening on his scalp.

Lorcan dared to lean in and whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait to see how  _tightly wound_  you actually are”

“Do you speak in anything but innuendo?”

Lorcan smiled broadly. He’d had enough talking. Rowan had begun making those noises again, noises that drove him wild, and he wanted to hear more. He wanted to break past the veneer of ‘honorable male’ the prince carried around and get him to submit to his baser instincts. Those instincts that only spoke of need and selfish impulse. So he started moving down Rowan’s body, dragging his mouth down his chest, briefly tugging on one nipple with his teeth, and trailing his tongue down below his belly button, before lowering himself to his knees. His hand had set up a slow, luxurious rhythm, and he used it to guided that hard cock to his mouth.

He glanced up towards Rowan’s face. His expression was still somewhat uncertain, but his lips were parted, his breaths picking up in speed, his green eyes taking on a feral intensity. Maintaining that eye contact, Lorcan closed that tiny space between them to press his lips and tongue to the reddened head of Rowan’s cock. He sucked his cheeks in, increasing the suction and pulling the engorged head past his lips, so he could fully taste him, his precum giving off a slightly salty taste. Rowan's eyelids drooped slightly, entering that sweet haze Lorcan knew only too well.

After only a few seconds of letting his tongue swirl around the tip of Rowan’s cock, he opened his mouth wider, pulling back his lips to dive over a greater portion of his shaft, engulfing him, then letting his lips drag a strong pull back over the length of his shaft. At that, _finally_ , he heard Rowan release a deep, unrestrained groan that seemed pulled from deep inside him, dragged out over the length of an exhale. Rowan placed a hand on Lorcan’s shoulder, squeezing, silently urging him to repeat the action, while his other hand braced against the cool stone wall at his back.

Lorcan devoted himself to his task, easily taking the prince’s cock in all the way to the base, having become well accustomed long ago to relaxing his jaw and throat to accept a male's full shaft down his throat, while still letting those small muscles contract involuntarily at the intrusion, a sensation that made Rowan’s groans rise slightly in pitch with each pass.  _Those godsdamned sounds_. Lorcan used his free hand to grip himself, giving his own hard cock a set of swift pulls. Suddenly Rowan bent, hands gripping Lorcan under the arms to lift him slightly off his knees, only to abruptly spin him around, shoving him again to his knees- this time facing away from Rowan, with his hands braced on the slick tiles.

Rowan bent over, one hand curled around Lorcan's neck. His voice indeed took on that unleashed tone Lorcan had been looking for. He whispered furiously in his ear, his lips grazing the round edge, “Playtime’s over. My turn.”

His lips moved down Lorcan’s spine, stopping occasionally to take a chunk of skin and bite down, making Lorcan hiss. He dragged them all the way to Lorcan’s ass, repositioning himself to brace both hands on his cheeks to spread them, making his tongue’s final destination that puckered entrance, swirling and probing with his tongue while still releasing harsh exhales through his nose.

Lorcan groaned, at last allowing himself a moment of undiluted bliss. He opened his eyes for a moment, gritting out, “well, well, prince, I didn’t think you actually had it in you”

Rowan lifted his head. “Just because I didn’t grow up as a bastard fucking my way up each alley doesn’t mean I don’t know how to make you scream.”

Lorcan had half a mind to turn around and pummel Whitethorn for his arrogance, but at that moment he pressed a hand to the center of Lorcan’s back, bending him at a more severe angle. “Hold still, will you.” 

Rowan stretched, bending to the side, over to the edge of the pool, swiping for the glass bottle still perched there. Lorcan felt his breath hitch, knowing what would come next. Rowan tipped the bottle over, allowing the oil a quick succession of _drip drip drips_ down his seam that he could feel gliding all the way to his sack, giving him an overwhelming tingling sensation that made his cock twitch.

Rowan dragged his thumb over the path of oil, spreading it around his entrance. Then he used his first finger to press lightly against Lorcan’s ass. He felt his muscles clench involuntarily before relaxing again, the tip of Rowan’s finger pushing in at that exact moment. It turned out the prince did know what he was doing. He glided his finger in and out, deeper with each pass, until he was able to add another finger. Lorcan was moaning openly now, lost in the eddy of sensation deep in his gut, rocking his hips back slightly to take full advantage of the rhythm Rowan had set. Each sliding press of Rowan’s crooked fingers met that spot just inside him, and Lorcan didn’t even realize his right hand had raised off the floor to stroke himself until Rowan had batted it away.

“I don’t need your help” he growled, and Lorcan let out another groan.

The words had somehow brought the reality of the situation into startling focus. He was bent double for a man whom, while he outranked him in birthright, he had authority to command in battle. When he had walked into this chamber and made this brash decision to provoke the prince, to see what he would do, he had not imagined that he would find himself on the receiving end. He was brought back to the present when he could sense that Rowan was shifting again, bringing his knees in between Lorcan’s own, forcing him to spread his legs a little wider. Then he felt Rowan remove his fingers at last, only to glide them down his balls, gathering the oil that had dribbled there.

Lorcan heard the unmistakable sounds of Rowan stroking his cock in a few hurried tugs, slicking his shaft before pressing his head against Lorcan’s ass. With one hand spreading his cheeks again, Rowan slowly slid in, and they both released a low groan of satisfaction. Once he was in position, Rowan removed his hand, letting the rest of him glide deeper, then resting for an agonizingly long moment, letting Lorcan adjust. Lorcan felt that stretch, the fullness that he hadn’t felt in some time. He was ready to feel that weight move inside him.

“ _Rowan-_ ”, he snarled through parted lips, but before he could say more, the prince pulled back, inching out of him before slamming home once more.

Rowan placed his hands on Lorcan’s hips, and quickly set a brutal pace, simultaneously thrusting his hips forward while pulling Lorcan’s ass back toward him. Each thrust made a resounding smack, echoing off the stone walls. He could feel Rowan’s balls smack into him each time, only heightening the rising roar in his blood. Before Lorcan could take much more, Rowan bent over, pulling him up so that their chests were pressed together, using one arm to hook around both of Lorcan’s elbows, immobilizing him.

Lorcan looked down to watch his cock bobbing, dripping precum, as Rowan renewed his fast pace, only to see Rowan finally using that other hand to still it; wrapping his fingers around his shaft to begin pumping. Lorcan’s head fell back, slave to the twin sensations dragging him under, one from the pressure deep inside him and the other from the unforgiving grip of the prince’s fist around his cock.

Rowan’s mouth was back at his ear. “I want you to fucking come for me” those words alone made Lorcan’s breathing increase, his panting ratcheting up to new heights. Rowan increased the pace of his hand, his thrusts maintaining that quick and brutal rhythm. It was enough.

Lorcan felt his balls drawing up, and with a shout, his body gave way to wave after wave of bliss. The muscles of his ass contracting rhythmically around that fullness inside him. He could hear Rowan’s groans increase in intensity until he too let out a rough, low snarl and Lorcan could feel each blast of his release inside him.

Rowan released the arm that was holding Lorcan up and he fell back down to his hands, Whitethorn leaning over him. He slowly pulled out and sank back on his heels. When Lorcan pivoted to face the prince he saw that he had his eyes shut, running his hands over his face and hair. After a moment of regaining control over their breathing, they both stood up.

Lorcan felt a mischievous grin tugging at his lips, tilting his head to one side. “Next time you need a distraction, Prince? It will be my turn. And I am going to fuck the shit out of you”.

Without another word, Rowan shoved Lorcan back into the pool and walked out through the arched doorway.


	2. Fireside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turn-about is fair play...

He was worse today.

When Lorcan had turned the corner into the training courtyard at dawn, it was clear he had already been here for hours. He was utterly drenched in sweat, the remains of destroyed training dummies strewn around him, while he panted through gritted teeth. He didn’t spare Lorcan a glance, just dragged another dummy from the line-up and began again.

Lorcan picked up a sheaf of arrows and one of the largest bows and set himself up to practice long distance shots to the targets about 200 yards away. He was willing to admit that he was weakest with the bow, he prefered to be as close to his enemy as possible so he could see the light leave their eyes. But that wasn’t really why he chose this discipline as his warm up. No, he was less willing to admit that he wanted some space between himself and the walking sack of muscle masquerading as a man on the opposite side of the yard. 

It wasn’t that he was avoiding the prince, per se, but he wanted some more time to form a plan. To assess what might be done about this situation. It had been over 2 weeks since he had last seen Rowan. It seemed he had retreated back into himself, avoiding all interaction, and keeping mainly to his quarters. The prince was known to do that every once in awhile, and Lorcan was content to leave him to it most of the time. But now that it seemed Rowan wasn’t about to give up his brooding stupor any time soon, Lorcan decided it was time to intervene.

After finishing his sheaf of arrows, Lorcan walked back over to the equipment where Rowan was standing, panting and gulping down water. Rowan made short eye contact with him and Lorcan raised a brow.

“Having fun, are we?”

No response.

“What’s your plan after we run out of dummies?”

Silence.

“You know-”

“Do you ever shut your mouth?”

“Do you ever find more productive ways to spend your long existence?

“I’m training. Which, by the way, you could clearly use more of with the bow. And what on earth would you know about being productive?”

Lorcan huffed. “What you’re doing is not training. It’s a tantrum. And what,  _pray tell_ , is that supposed to mean?”

“As far as I can tell, your main contribution to this kingdom is as the Queen’s own personal joke.”

“And what’s yours? Professional mourner?”

Rowan had him pinned to against the stone wall in the blink of an eye, an arm braced against Lorcan’s throat, snarling in his face. Lorcan let it happen, taking every ounce of his fury.

“Ah.  _There’s_  the male.” Rowan’s brow furrowed. “I was beginning to think the hawk had taken over this form as well.”

Rowan’s grip loosened for a moment and Lorcan spun them around, using his whole frame to press him into the wall and lean in close to his face, a growl deep in his throat.

“Talk to me that way again and I’ll have you shoveling shit for a month. Understood?”

Rowan’s jaw clenched, but after a moment, he huffed through his nose and broke eye contact, looking down. About as much submission as he would show.

“You know, there are a lot of easier ways to take your mind off things. Ones that don’t involve working yourself to exhaustion and becoming useless to me.”

“I am not just here for your  _use_.”

“Ah, but we both know that isn't quite true, is it?”

“That won’t be happening again.” 

Lorcan chuckled. “I recall making you a promise. Besides, when was the last time you were properly fucked?”

Something tightened in Rowan’s features, and Lorcan felt his lips tug up, his eyes widening.

“Don’t tell me. It can’t be. Please tell me you know how it feels to be fucked?”

Rowan’s features tightened further, defensive- ready to push him off, but Lorcan backed away, smiling broadly at the male. “You know what, fine. You’re right. I won’t use you. But you will no doubt have use for me soon. There’s no way you haven’t been curious about what it would be like to switch places. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Rowan looked like he was ready to pummel him, but he turned his back on the prince and strolled out of the courtyard.

~

It was well past midnight, and Lorcan was sitting at his desk- pouring over some reports he’d received late from his courier, when he heard two sharp knocks on his door. Like a fist attempting to rattle the hinges.

Lorcan padded over and threw the door open wide. Rowan was standing there, leaning heavily against the doorjamb, looking up at him through heavy lidded eyes. His long hair was in a messy knot at the base of his head, several long hairs having escaped. The scent of alcohol wafted in on a cloud, assaulting his senses with its sharp tang.

“You’re late”

“Shut your mouth, asshole”

And with that, he lunged for Lorcan, grabbing him by the face with both hands and smashing their lips together. Lorcan was pushed back a few steps with the force of it, and their teeth clacked together painfully. Rowan continued to push them further into the room, and he felt a gust of wind before hearing the door slam. Then he was jerking Lorcan’s tunic over his head, and he lifted his arms obligingly, taking the moment to catch his breath. He put his hands on Rowan’s chest to hold him at arms length long enough to breath, “is it you that wants this, or the ale?”

“Do you even care?”

“If you wake up tomorrow morning and hardly remember me making you scream then I will be sorely disappointed”

“Just fuck me, you bastard”

Lorcan couldn’t stop way his breath caught at that. It was true, he didn’t want Rowan to let this night be just another excuse to hate himself, and he wanted him to be sure. But he wasn’t going to talk himself out of this either. If this is what the prince wanted to escape his own demons, even for a night, then Lorcan was willing to oblige him.

So he just pressed their lips back together, slower and more deliberate this time, and lifted Rowan’s shirt over his head. Rowan continued to back them up, Lorcan navigating the room by memory. But they didn’t make it to the bed. Once they had stepped onto the rug positioned in front of the fireplace, Rowan pushed on Lorcan’s shoulders to urge him to his knees, then to lie back so that Rowan could position himself on top. Rowan’s tongue felt amazing. Smooth and soft, gliding against his own while they hardly took a break to gasp for air. He had one leg between Rowan’s and he lifted his knee slightly to rub against his groin, savoring the growing hardness there.

Rowan began kissing down Lorcan’s chest, scraping his teeth against him hard enough to make him hiss. Rowan sat up, straddling one of his legs, and began roughly jerking on the buttons and ties of Lorcan’s trousers, only getting them down far enough to free his length. He immediately wrapped his hand around it and gave Lorcan a few hard pumps. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the tight grip, the way Rowan twisted his hand on each upward stroke.

He could only take Rowan’s hand on his cock for few moments. Not only because he wanted to slow this down, but also because he was ready to shift their dynamic. He knew how much Rowan wanted to be in control, but he had indulged the prince long enough. He sat up, twisting them around in one swift movement, forcing Rowan to lay down beneath him.

“Have you forgotten? It’s my turn.”

Rowan growled and Lorcan only bent down long enough to smother it with a kiss, biting at his lower lip. Then he was scooting back on his knees so that he could drag his hands down Rowan’s chest to let his hands rest for just a moment on the ties of Rowan’s pants, waiting for the prince to look him in the eye. They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Lorcan took his time unfastening his trousers, occasionally letting one hand cup and squeeze the fullness underneath. Rowan's eyes were blazing into his own, his chest rising and falling with increased speed as each second ticked by; his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Every muscle of his body was tense and still.

“How is it possible you’ve never done this before?”

“My encounters with males were rare in my youth. I…” he was distracted for a moment when Lorcan squeezed again. “I always took control of the situation”

“How selfish of you.” Rowan glared at him. “Don’t worry  _dear_ , I’ll go easy on you”

Rowan stiffened further at that, but Lorcan just leaned forward to lift his arms above his head and pin them there by his wrists.

“Stay right here. And get those pants off.”

* * *

Lorcan stood up and started walking over to a trunk by his bed. Rowan heard him open the latch and begin rummaging inside. He put a hand against his face and rubbed his eyes. He should leave. He _could_ leave. He could stand up and walk out of here right now. He knew it was a bad idea to let this happen again. He worked well with Lorcan on missions and on the battlefield, but the man was an absolute bastard. And he didn’t want to jeopardize their effectiveness for the sake of this… distraction.

But… something was wriggling under his skin, like tiny needle pricks constantly sapping away his focus, his discipline, his sanity. He’d grown used to living a half existence. Allowing his mind to stay empty of anything but his Queen’s orders. If he allowed himself to think, to continue to think, he knew he would fly above the highest mountain range, shift out of his feathers, and let gravity do the work for him. The thought had crossed his mind more times than he cared to count. And lately… the battles weren’t enough. The grip of his sword in his hand, the sweat coating every muscle; it wasn’t enough to silence everything in his mind. So, if this is what it took to free him, even if just for a moment, from his guilt and shame and fury…then he would allow his commanding officer to give him orders in this way.

Lorcan was walking back over to him when Rowan finally began to obey the order he had been given. He sat up long enough to toss his pants away before laying back, trying to calm the tension running through him. Lorcan stood in front of him, with that insufferable smirk, and pushed down his open breeches, kicking them away while holding his gaze. He had a bottle of something white and solid in his hand and he sat it next to Rowan’s hip as he kneeled and pushed Rowan’s legs up and apart, resting between them.

Rowan already hated this open, vulnerable position but he forced himself to stay still. Lorcan leaned over him and kissed him. Hard and demanding enough that Rowan closed his eyes and focused on the way his hair brushed his forehead, the sharp pain of the bites against his lower lip, the wet glide of his tongue. Lorcan moved to the side, nipping along his jaw and down the column of his neck. Lorcan tangled his hand in Rowan’s hair and found the leather strap tying it back so he could undo the knot and toss it away. Then he grabbed a handful of the hair at the base of his skull and pulled so he could expose more of Rowan’s throat. He hissed, but it turned quickly into a groan when he realized Lorcan’s other hand was grabbing a nipple and squeezing hard. He propped himself up, his black hair mussed and gave Rowan a mischievous smile, before gliding down, dragging his nails as he went, making Rowan shiver involuntarily.

When Lorcan dragged his tongue up his shaft, he finally allowed himself to let out a long sigh, tilting his head back. Lorcan pushed gently on his knees, spreading them wider, before wrapping one hand around the base of his cock and sucking the head just past his lips to swirl his tongue around and around.

Rowan let out a relieved groan, feeling his body give in to the all encompassing sensation of Lorcan bobbing his head, his lips wrapped tightly around his shaft as he took him deeper. Rowan felt a sharp increase in pressure as his cock pushed at the back of Lorcan’s throat, and his hand shot out to grab at Lorcan’s hair as he pushed even deeper still.

Lorcan’s other hand began kneading at his sack, rolling and pulling and squeezing. Then he went lower, finding that area of skin between his sack and his entrance and pushing with his thumb. Rowan gasped, feeling almost lightheaded at the sensation of even more blood moving south, feeling his balls draw up with each firm press. Then it wasn’t the sensation of fingers, but of tongue, as Lorcan bent further to reach that sensitive spot with his mouth. He moved to place both hands on the back of Rowan’s thighs pushing them back so his feet left the ground.

“Stay just like that”, Lorcan murmured before he moved his hands to spread Rowan’s cheeks, and began probing his entrance with his tongue. He had done this to several lovers, including the rare males he’d had trysts with in his youth. But it had only been done to him a couple times. It was startling at first, to feel to wet press of a tongue there, but it quickly passed and Rowan realized he was panting, moaning with each exhale.

Lorcan remained there, licking and probing while he reached with one hand for the bottle that lay resting beside them. Rowan heard him twist the lid off the glass jar and he propped himself on his elbows to watch as Lorcan scooped out what he now realized was coconut oil into his palm. As it warmed and liquified in his hand, he smoothed the cool oil into Rowan’s skin, the tension returning to his shoulders. Lorcan used the remainder of the oil to make a few business-like tugs against his own shaft before finally looking up at him.

“Relax  _prince_ , I know what I’m doing.”

Rowan didn’t respond, he just continued to watch as Lorcan leaned forward grasped his cock again, gliding his hand up and down in slow, easy strokes.

“Lie back, and try to breathe. It’s my job to make sure this feels good.”

Rowan reluctantly leaned back again, his head landing with a soft thud against the rug beneath him. Lorcan continued his stroking with one hand, while his other moved to slowly glide his finger against his puckered hole in wide circles. Rowan could feel his muscles tense with each pass. Slowly, he felt his legs relax, watched them fall open a bit wider, and he realized he was chasing after more of that tingling sensation.

Lorcan stilled his finger against his entrance for just a moment, waiting for his muscles to relax enough for him to slip inside. Rowan realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to release it slowly through his nose. Lorcan slipped in further, helped by the oil, and began gliding it slowly in and out. Rowan felt the exact moment that Lorcan crooked his finger, pressing against that spot just inside him and rubbing it, making him gasp.

“Oh  _fuck_.”

“That’s it. Just let it feel good.” Rowan could picture the self-satisfied smirk behind his closed eyes, and he fought the urge to lean up and punch him.

Lorcan kept probing and pressing until he let his middle finger rest against his skin, gently pressing more and more with each pass until it too slipped inside. Rowan’s breathing ratcheted up involuntarily and he was panting hard, unable to stop himself. He was lost in an eddy of sensation, his mind completely, blessedly empty. He was startled to hear himself release a low whine, and Lorcan had the nerve to chuckle.

“Shut up, you fucking bastard.”

“Don’t worry, I know exactly how good this feels, as you well know. And I  _love_  those those sounds you make.”

Rowan groaned, exasperated, but Lorcan just continued to rub and press so much that he stopped caring what kind of sounds he made. He felt the uncomfortable stretch of being filled, but the way his fingers pressed and slid against his sensitive skin, demanding every bit of his attention- it was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

Lorcan bent over to kiss him again, before leaning to place his mouth against his ear. “Are you ready for me?” Rowan kept his eyes squeezed shut and nodded.

Lorcan sat back and scooted closer, his fingers still keeping up that tortuously slow pace. He gripped his cock in his other hand, stroking and pulling, only a couple inches away from Rowan’s skin. He slowly removed his fingers and placed his cock there, pressing lightly, making sure to stop when Rowan tensed. The push in was slow, and Rowan hissed as the head of Lorcan’s cock slipped inside him. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling each and every inch of his shaft ease into him, until he finally reached the point where Rowan was more focused on the depth of him, the deep sensation in his gut.

When Lorcan’s pelvis finally rested against Rowan’s skin, he stilled and kissed him. It was rough and they were both breathing hard, hands grasping each other anywhere they could reach. Lorcan began grinding into him, thrusting slowly and growling low in his throat.

After several tortuous moments of this Rowan grabbed Lorcan’s onyx hair and jerked his head back so he could look him in the eye. “Lorcan.  _Fuck me already._ ”

* * *

Shit.  _Shit_ , he was tight. Lorcan was about to lose his mind over the tightness squeezing his cock. With each backwards pull it felt like Rowan’s ass was trying to drag his cum from him. He was not going to last long, he could already tell. And the way that each sound from Rowan’s throat seemed more desperate with each second made his own breathing reduce to ragged panting, trying to be quiet if only so he could hear each sharp intake of air, each whine and growl and moan that released from Rowan’s lips.

He sat back on his heels, dragging Rowan’s body closer and pushing against the back of his thighs, positioning him nice and wide. The prince wanted to be fucked, so that’s what Lorcan would do. He pulled out until just his tip rested inside him before thrusting home again, relishing the male’s sharp cry. Then he did it again. And again. He worked up to a fast and brutal pace, moving to bring Rowan’s legs up against his ribs, wrapping his arms around the bend in his knees to use them as leverage to pound harder and faster. Rowan’s eyes were squeezed tight, his lips parted.

“ _Open your eyes_. I want you to look at me when I make you come.”

Rowan swore but obeyed, his green eyes flashing.

“Touch yourself. Unlike  _you_ , I want to watch you fist your cock. Show me how you do it.”

Rowan slid one hand down his body and grabbed his hard cock that was bouncing against his belly. He didn’t waste time with slow strokes, he immediately started a fast and efficient pace. His fist stayed in the middle of his shaft, only reaching the head briefly on each upstroke. Lorcan saw that his tip had a drop of precum threatening to drip onto his stomach as each thrust shook Rowan’s body. He was looking Lorcan in the eyes, his groans turning ragged and desperate.

“That’s it. Come for me.”

Rowan’s face scrunched, his brow furrowed almost in a grimace, and he broke eye contact to look down at himself. Lorcan watched too, and heard Rowan release a strangled, startled roar as the first shot of cum streaked across his stomach. Lorcan felt the muscles of his ass contract so hard around his shaft that his hips faltered and he stilled deep inside him as his climax soared through him. His body shuddered, thrusting a few more jagged times, savoring each pulse and each contraction as Rowan’s orgasm faded.

He fell forward, braced on his hands and looked up to see that Rowan had his arm slung across his eyes, still panting. Lorcan slowly pulled out and reached over to where his own shirt had landed, tossing it onto Rowan’s stomach so he could clean himself, before laying down next to him.

* * *

Neither of them said a word for a long moment, their breathing slowing returning to normal. Rowan had to admit that was one of the best orgasms he had ever had. The fullness of Lorcan inside him had made each pulse of his climax more intense. His nerves still felt like they were buzzing from the residual energy, but his mind was blank. Empty. It wasn't empty for long.

_What was he doing? What right did he have to a moment of reprieve? What was happening to him?_

Shame swarmed in so swiftly and heavily that Rowan’s hand flew to his chest. The weight of a millstone resting squarely on his rib cage. Rowan sat up, scrubbing at his face before looking around for his clothes. Lorcan rolled and reached up to place his hand against his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get my clothes.”

“You aren’t going anywhere. Wherever you’re about to go to brood and sulk won’t help one gods damn thing. Now lay down.”

Rowan was startled enough by the command in Lorcan’s voice that he slowly laid back down.

“Why do you think I bought such a comfortable rug?”

Rowan snorted at that, but didn’t look Lorcan in the eyes, opting instead to look into the fire. The weight didn't leave him, but he couldn't bring himself to move again.

He hadn’t meant to stay there. But the residual looseness in his limbs combined with the soothing crackling of the fire next to him slowly dragged him into sleep- right after he heard Lorcan’s own breathing slow and even out beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shall I continue?


	3. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An excerpt from Heir of Fire:
> 
> “That’s how our enemies will try to fight against us if they don’t have magic- iron everything. I was captured once, while on a campaign in the east, in a kingdom that doesn’t exist anymore. They had me shackled head to toe in iron to keep me from choking the air out of their lungs. Two weeks on their tables before my men rescued me.” he unbuckled his vambrace and pushed back the sleeve of his right arm, revealing a thick, wicked scar curving around his forearm and elbow. “Cut me open bit by bit, then took the bones here and-”

Rowan jerked awake, immediately stiffening and hissing in a breath at the sharp agony in his arm. He forced his body to relax, to not pull against the chains. He had somehow succumb to the weight of exhaustion, falling into a form of unconsciousness that was in no way restful.

The iron was wrapped around his neck, his chest, each thigh, each ankle, each bicep and each wrist. It felt like a castle was resting on his chest. He couldn’t lift his head, but he had a shadowy sense of awareness toward his right arm. He couldn’t see what they did, but considering the tools they had used and the cut they made... the sounds- the cracking and squelching, the grinding sensation, the screaming of his muscles- he knew that both of the bones in his forearm were bulging from his skin, twisted far past their normal rotation. That was where they had started. They had done the same thing to the left calf. His torso and thighs were striped with welts, burns, and cuts. Though both of his eyes were almost completely swollen shut, they opened just enough to look over to the nearest lantern. He stared at the flame. Begging it to flicker, to bend under the force of a breath, a whisper of wind. Nothing.

His vision swam and he knew that in a moment he would succumb to another round of fever induced nothingness. His heavy lids had almost collapsed when the door to the dungeon slammed open, nearly coming off the hinges. He didn’t bother trying to turn his head. He expected a taunting voice, a cold sneer to enter his vision, but instead he saw the faces of Lorcan and Gavriel. He must be hallucinating- he knew the fever would develop into madness at some point but this seemed far too soon. They were saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear it. His lids were about to close again when he felt a hand smack his cheek. Hard.

“Don’t you dare, asshole."

“Rowan, we’re getting you out of here, we’re going home.”

Home. His _home_  was gone. He hadn’t had a home in over one hundred fifty seven years.

 

* * *

Gavriel, Vaughan, and Lorcan sat in the back of a wagon. Gavriel and Vaughan trailed their fingers over Rowan’s wounds, methodically addressing the infection swimming in his blood. They left the bones alone, the damage comprehensive enough that they wanted to wait for the professional healers to address them when they got back to Doranelle. Lorcan had half a mind to stay behind. They had destroyed the fort, leaving a river of blood behind them. This Eastern kingdom was already weak, grasping at scraps of power already, and Lorcan had a foggy plan in his mind to come back and wipe it entirely off the map. For now though, they had to get back to his Queen as fast as possible. Rowan was still unconscious on the bench, and Lorcan resisted the urge to wipe away the hair sticking to his face. He was not a whimpering nursemaid and he refused to worry. They were going to go home, Rowan would heal, and they would both be back to bring this kingdom to its knees. Everything would be fine.

The carriage gave a harsh jerk to the left, and Rowan’s limp body listed to the side. “Watch where you’re fucking going will you?!” Lorcan snarled.

Gavriel glanced up from his work, giving Lorcan a _look._ “We’ll be there soon enough.”

“Yeah and preferably in one piece,” he growled.  

Gavriel’s tawny eyes slid down to Lorcan’s hands, which he then realized were holding the grip of his axe, rhythmically pounding the head on the floor of the wagon. He chucked it aside and kept his eyes on the road.

 

_Six months later_

 

They did return to that kingdom. Rowan had spent two weeks with the healers, repairing his ribs and the bones of his arm and leg. Replacing the missing bits of muscle. Restoring joints. A week after that, Lorcan showed up to Rowan’s door to drag his ass to the yard. They worked to restore the strength in those new muscles, had ensured that his wrist and ankle had returned to their full strength and range of motion. Being blessed with fae blood didn’t mean that there weren’t consequences from being tortured for two weeks. The rest of the blood-sworn had helped. And they had decided to go together, regardless of the fact that the whole lot of them was more than enough to cripple that little Eastern kingdom. Maeve had given them leave to do as they wished. She had no interest in the east. By the time they were done, they were absolutely no threat to anyone. 

After they had decimated the army, they had all celebrated. However, Rowan only showed a grim sense of satisfaction that had barely lasted. Even during the journey back to Doranelle, Lorcan had noticed that Rowan’s eyes seemed somehow even deader than before. His face was set in a constant mask. His lips and shoulders all set in tight, fixed lines. When they returned, Rowan said the bare minimum in every meeting they had before immediately returning to the yard or to his quarters. He could only be seen during mealtimes, where Lorcan tried and failed _not_ to notice that he was eating less than usual.

It was during one of these meals, dinner at the table they always shared, that Lorcan noticed that Rowan kept bouncing his leg under the table. In the many years that Lorcan had known Rowan, he had had never seen him without a tight sense of control over every movement he made. He might use that control to train for hours on end, to use the last dregs of his magical reserves, or even to lash out in rage, but the sense of ownership over every muscle remained. This bouncing thigh showed a crack in that command. He shared a look with Gavriel who just shook his head. Gavriel had told him that he tried to have a conversation with Rowan several of days ago and it had...not ended well.

When Rowan stood from the table, leaving almost half of his food on his plate, Lorcan counted several breaths before standing up to follow him. He caught sight of him when he turned down an empty corridor.

“Whitethorn.”

“Whatever it is it can wait until tomorrow.”

Lorcan caught up to him and decided to be at least somewhat smart about this and abandoned the urge to grab Rowan by the arm and spin him around. Instead, he sped up so he could stand in front of Rowan to simply block his path.

“What.” 

“What do you need me to do?”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“Since when has being alone ever worked for you?”

“It’s gotten me through this far.”

Lorcan dared a step closer. “No, it hasn’t. The only thing you’ve had under control is your own body. And even that was taken from you.”

“So what- you think fucking you will help?” Rowan sneered.

“I think you need a better way to get through immortality. But I also think you need to gain back that sense of control.”

Rowan considered him for a moment, distaste still painting his features. Then, something shifted, and he almost smirked. He closed the distance between them, every movement predatory. “You know what, _Commande r_ _?_ Fine. You think i need to feel in control again? Come to my quarters tomorrow night. And you better come prepared, inside and out.”

 

* * *

 

The next night, Lorcan made his way to Rowan’s quarters, walking at a deliberately slow pace. When he got to the door, he paused for a moment, steeling himself. This might not work. Hell, Rowan might decide to punch him in the face and slam the door. He may stay the same way he’s been. Present in body but not in mind. Lorcan knew that if Rowan actually followed through with… whatever this was, that Lorcan could take it. He was used to being the one in charge of these types of situations, so he felt the awkwardness of putting himself out of his comfort zone. But he was willing to accept that Rowan needed to have an equal and opposite experience to drown out the mental warfare that occurs after going through the type of torture he went through. So, he lifted his fist and gave two swift knocks on the door.

He only had to wait two heartbeats before the door opened and he was dragged into the room by the front of his shirt. Rowan pulled him inside and shoved him against the door. Their mouths crashed together and Lorcan opened his mouth immediately. Rowan lifted Lorcan’s arms above his head and devoured his mouth, his teeth scraping against sensitive flesh.

When his mouth moved down to his throat, Lorcan said, “is this what your _control_ looks like? It looks a lot like more of the same.”

Rowan squeezed Lorcan's jaw and snarled in his face. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

He spun them around and began pushing Lorcan towards the bed. His legs hit the edge of the mattress and Rowan shoved him down onto his back. Rowan climbed on top of him and they slid their way to the head of the bed. Rowan straddled Lorcan’s hips, occasionally grinding against him as their tongues entwined again. Rowan’s hands slid up under Lorcan's shirt, pressing up his torso until Lorcan lifted his arms to allow Rowan to yank the shirt over his head and throw it behind him.

“I know what I want. What I need to get past this,” Rowan breathed.  

Lorcan’s eyebrows lifted, waiting. Rowan reached over to the bedside table and held a rope in front of Lorcan’s face. He looked Rowan in the eyes. They both knew that this kind of rope would offer resistance, but that Lorcan could break through bonds like that if he wished.

Lorcan just nodded and Rowan began looping and wrapping the rope around one wrist until he was able to drag Lorcan’s arm across the bed to secure the end of the rope to the bedpost. After Lorcan watched him finish with the first one, he focused instead on Rowan’s face. It was set in a mask of concentration, but his breathing was ragged and uneven. No doubt thinking of a different set of bonds. Iron ones. No doubt the very reason he chose to do it this way. He was still trying to analyze Rowan’s features, to figure out where his mind was at, when his other arm is stretched towards the other post and secured there.

Rowan slid down his body, resting between Lorcan’s legs. Quickly, roughly, and efficiently, he pulled at the ties of his trousers and yanked everything off him until Lorcan lay there naked and ready. He grabbed Lorcan under his knees and spread his legs. Rowan ignored his cock completely as his mouth dove for Lorcan’s hole, licking and probing and devouring him. Lorcan’s eyes lost focus as he stared at the ceiling, luxuriating in the touch, feeling Rowan’s breaths through his nose tickle the hair of his seam. He lifted his head only to be able to see the top of Rowan’s head, his long hair tied at the base of his skull. He wanted to reach down and grab it, to pull it free and wrap it around his fist, but instead all he got to do was pull against the ropes.

Rowan pushed himself up and started to come towards him again, only to reach across him again to the bedside table. Lorcan finally took a moment to look over to see what _else_ rested on the table and his jaw dropped. There was a jar of oil...and…

The wood was polished to a perfect sheen, making the fire light dance off the conical shape- perfectly round in the middle and narrowing to a soft point at the top. The bottom narrowed quickly before flaring again to the base which held the piece upright. A plug.

Lorcan’s eyes snapped back to Rowan’s, but the male didn’t even look at him, just opened the jar of oil, smearing it on the plug before getting another generous dip on his fingers and leaning back to reposition himself between Lorcan’s legs. _This took a turn._

“You do enjoy surprising me don’t you, Prince.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never used one before.”

“Oh i have, I’m usually the one using it on other people...but I’m more scandalized by the image of you going out and purchasing one”

Rowan just snorted and began rubbing his slick hand against Lorcan’s puckered hole, circling the edges with the tip of his finger. “Did you prepare like i asked?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Rowan placed the tip of the plug against Lorcan’s skin and pressed lightly, no preamble. It was a good thing that Lorcan did indeed follow his orders, and did some… preliminary stretching. Then again, Lorcan had only used his fingers. So, as the widest part of the plug pushed past that ring of muscle, Lorcan had to devote his concentration and control his breathing to slightly push against that wide end, allowing it to be fully engulfed before resting against his skin. It had been quite some time since he used one of these and… he had forgotten. Forgotten how mind numbing the constant pressure was inside him. How that wide end pressed against that one spot every time he shifted or clenched. He widened his legs and grunted at that sensation, trying to get his breathing under control, but Rowan moved his still slick hand up to Lorcan’s cock and gave the head a hard, tight squeeze that had his eyes rolling to the back of his head. It didn’t escape him that he was laying here in Rowan’s bed, completely naked, tied and helpless- with a plug inside him- while Rowan remained fully clothed.

“And here I thought that preparation was so that you could bend my legs up to my ears and fill me yourself. What’s your plan now?”

“You aren’t the only one who prepared.”

 

* * *

 

Rowan allowed himself a brief moment to take in Lorcan’s wide eyes, the utter stillness of his features, before he ripped off his own clothing in rough tugs. Once naked, he straddled Lorcan's hips again and reached for the oil, bending awkwardly between his legs to swipe the oil across his entrance.

“Rowan…” Lorcan growled and Rowan looked up to his face. He gazed at him while he reached again between his legs, taking hold of Lorcan and guiding him, sliding him up and down his cleft, breathing in rough gasps as he started to slide down onto his cock. He paused for a moment to relax into the blunt, wide head of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, needing this and only this right now. This moment. He was eager to return to that memory of bliss, that all encompassing sensation of being filled, stretched. Fucking was one thing. But this... It was like a flood, drowning every thought, silencing the words in his mind: that he was alone- that he deserved nothing and no one. That thought had echoed and reverberated in his mind for those two weeks on that table. He didn’t understand it. He had been tortured before. Why had this time been so different?

He sank lower and lower onto Lorcan’s cock, until he was sitting again on Lorcan’s hips. He sat there for a moment, bracing his hands against Lorcan’s chest, feeling the powerful muscles and bones expand with each gasping breath. He looked down at himself, at his hard length aching and throbbing. When he mustered the strength to move, he lifted up slightly, shuddering at the smooth glide of their skin against one another. The movement felt foreign and uneasy. He hadn’t considered the fact that this position meant that each movement of his hips was different than what he was used to.

His mind drifted to memories of women atop him, their hips grinding and bouncing against him and he suddenly had a moment of doubt. He had meant for this to be a moment of power, of taking, and suddenly he felt very vulnerable and out of his element. His eyes found one of Lorcan’s wrists- his arm straining against the bonds, hand in a fist. He reminded himself that every sensation and movement was under _his_ control. This moment belonged to him and only him. He forced his muscles to move, to grind against the fullness inside him. He registered that Lorcan was growling and grunting on each exhale, and he used the sound as a measure, a way to modulate each movement of his hips- finding a way to teach his hips and legs how to seek out his pleasure this new way. A harsh breath gusted out of him and he picked up his pace as he threw his head back and groaned.

 

* * *

 

This was quite possibly the best view Lorcan had ever seen in his gods-forsaken life. Segments of hair had fallen out of Rowan’s tie and hung in his face, tucked hastily behind an ear, and clung down the side of his neck, sticking to the sweat running down him. Every muscle was taut and rippling with each movement he made. He couldn’t remember a time when he had every one of his senses under such assault. His arms were under continual tension, feeling the slight panic at not being able to reach out and touch. Deep inside him, he felt the plug pressing with constant demand against the base of him. And Rowan’s ass was squeezing his dick so hard he was certain that if rowan lifted off him for a moment he would be able to see that it was alarmingly red and full.

His neck was straining but he didn’t care, not as he watched Rowan’s cock bob up and down, feeling his sack press against him every time that Rowan fully seated himself against his lap. Rowan continued to neglect himself, his hands having moved to brace against his thighs, his head still tilted back, exposing the strong column of his throat. _Gods_ , Lorcan wanted to lick that neck.

Through the haze of sensation, his instincts began to pick up on an insidious undercurrent in the room. Rowan’s hands were pressed against his legs so hard that the fingertips were wholly white. His shoulders were locked and bunched. When he looked again to Rowan’s throat, he could see that his jaw was wide open and he was panting like an animal, seemingly unable to take in a full breath.

“Rowan.” He didn’t respond, didn’t look at him.

“ _Rowan_ ,” he snarled. “Look at me you bastard.”

He was still rocking his hips, but Rowan looked down at him like he was just remembering he was here.

“Where the fuck are you.”

“Nowhere,” Rowan responded, and then his hips finally stilled, the words sinking in.

“Be _here_. I’m right here. You aren’t alone."

The words hit like a physical blow. Rowan fell forward, his hands braced on either side of Lorcan’s chest. He bowed his head, long hairs hanging in Lorcan’s face.

“Rowan. _Come here_ ,” he commanded. Rowan fell to his elbows, allowing his chest to fall against Lorcan’s. They sat there like that for a long moment, their sweat sticky and hot between them, Rowan’s breathing was possibly even more labored and fast than before.

“Rowan, my hands.”

He lifted just far enough to allow one arm to reach over and tug against the knot, sliding it along the length of the rope far enough that Lorcan could slide his right hand through. Then Rowan shifted his weight to do the same to the other side before falling again, his forehead braced on Lorcan’s shoulder. Lorcan wrapped his arms tightly around the Prince, crushing their bodies together, a part of him still registering the way they were still joined. He lifted his head, almost alarming himself at the gentleness of the kisses he placed against Rowan’s neck. They were in foreign territory, neither knowing the words to say in this moment but both feeling the tide shift, feeling their bodies no longer in a state of primal need but shifting into something more subtle and layered. 

He ran his hand up Rowan’s back, grabbing a fist full of ponytail and gently tugging Rowan up to look him in the eye. The Prince’s eyes searched furiously between his own, clearly at war with his desire to appear the master of himself and this new sense of vulnerability. He settled somewhere in between as he said, “kiss me.”

Lorcan only need to lean up a little further so that their lips could touch. The kiss was slow at first, only the tips of their lips brushing against each other. Then Rowan’s hand slid up and he grasped the back of Lorcan’s head, his fingers sliding into Lorcan’s hair as the kiss deepened.

This heat was different somehow, a silent conversation. Lorcan’s other hand moved down his spine to stroke one cheek, barely lifting his hips to slide a little deeper. Rowan lifted his head, his eyes blazing as he rocked his hips back, a counterweight to Lorcan’s movements. They did not look away from each other as they found a slow, luxurious rhythm. Rowan’s eyes drooped, his forehead coming to rest against Lorcan’s, sharing breath.

“Like this,” Lorcan said, softer now. “Stop fighting everything. Just let go and be _here_ in _this_ moment.”

Rowan groaned, keeping their heads together as his hips responded in a deep grind. Lorcan made every push a focused communication, gaining speed without losing purpose. Rowan’s cock was a solid weight between their bodies, sliding between them easier and easier as each bead of precum slicked their skin. His head dropped to Lorcan’s neck- seemingly unable to continue holding it up, directing each moan and intake of breath directly to Lorcan’s ear. Lorcan felt every ounce of tension from the night begging to release, his body roaring at him to let go, but he wouldn’t allow himself to until Rowan did.

“Rowan, come with me.” Rowan lifted on his elbows again, arching his back only enough so there was a bare separation between their torsos. 

“Do it for me.”

Lorcan eased a hand between them, grabbing Rowan’s cock and stroking him the exact way he had seen Rowan do it, eager to get him to come quickly. He was focused on his task enough that he was surprised when Rowan’s lips found his again, his tongue sliding into his mouth. He could feel the vibrations of Rowan’s groan against him, and then Rowan pulled his lips back a hair’s breadth away to sob out his release, coating both of them in wetness. Lorcan kept up his stroking as his hips finally faltered under the weight of his own release, the plug making his climax even more intense. They both collapsed, Rowan’s full body weight pressing against him.

 

* * *

 

Rowan finally felt his breathing slow, his body and mind still under the effects of euphoria. It was different this time. Instead of the silence he had been hunting, he was overcome by a sense of _calm_. He felt calmer and more at rest than he had… in a long time. It wasn’t complete. No, he would never feel complete again. He knew that. But still, this was like blessed relief. Like coming up for a breath of air while in the throes of a harsh current.

He brushed his lips against Lorcan’s one last time- the only gratitude he could offer, before rolling to the side. Lorcan rolled towards him, reaching behind himself to gently ease the plug out, then he turned and slid out of bed.

“You’re staying here tonight,” he said. Not a question.

Lorcan snorted. “Of course I am.”

He got up and walked towards the bathroom and Rowan felt a smirk tug at his lips at the sight. When lorcan was done, they passed each other in the center of the room while he was making his way to bathroom as well. A loud smack reverberated against the stone walls as Lorcan smacked his ass.

Rowan didn’t even turn around, just said, “you’ll pay for that,” before closing the bathroom door behind him.

 

* * *

 

Lorcan lay in the middle of Rowan’s bed, feeling ridiculously pleased with himself, as he usually did after nights like this. He watched as Rowan made his way back to bed, enjoying the ability to see him naked this way- casually and without the cloud of lust around him. 

“You’re in my spot,” Rowan said as he climbed on the mattress, and Lorcan shifted away from the middle only enough so that Rowan could lay down before falling against his chest, throwing a leg over him. They lay there in silence for a good while, neither wanting to disrupt the peaceful quiet they had found somehow. Eventually, Rowan’s arm came up and rested against Lorcan’s back. There were no sweet nothings whispered, no idle stroking, just their bodies relaxed against one another, their breathing synced.

Lorcan felt his eyes droop at the sensation of their chests rising and falling in unison. The sound against Lorcan’s ear like a gentle tide. It was enough to pull him under into a heavy, dreamless sleep.


End file.
